


Whiskers In the Dark

by DragonForce



Series: Claws Out [1]
Category: 007 - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AU, Gen, Qisacatofcourse, Qisashapeshifter, clean, noswearing, what happens when the author has too much caffine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonForce/pseuds/DragonForce
Summary: "Has anyone seen Q?"He wriggled uncomfortably in her arms. I'm right here! He wanted to yowl. He could feel his little heart beating and he tried hard not to think about how far from the ground he was. His small body was shaking like a lone leaf in the winter and he fought the urge to vomit all over his friend. He sighed, weighing his options. He was stuck in a cat's body with no obvious way to change back, half the agency thought he was missing. Probably kidnapped...or worse. And he still hadn't perfected the animal translation device so he had no way of letting the others know he was all right."And does anyone know who this kitten belongs to?"It figured.
Relationships: Bond/Moneypenny
Series: Claws Out [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565572
Kudos: 18





	1. CATastrophe

**Author's Note:**

> So a freak like me get his cover blown~"Feelin' So Fly" by Tobymac
> 
> I saw some fanfics like these and I thought they were so cute and I decided to try one for myself. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine day turns into a big problem...

It was definitely the beginning of the Christmas season, Q decided, as he shuffled into MI6 one cold, dreary, Thursday morning. Not only was it frigid enough to be the middle of the arctic, it also appeared someone had taken the initiative to storm his private office and morph it from it’s typical concrete-gray walls and dark columns into something simply horrendous, and he found himself squinting to see around the hundreds of twinkling lights that were wound around all of his desks and chairs, even being so daring as to hang the distasteful things from the rafters. On top of it all, someone had had the audacity to set up a tree. Right next to his desk. Where everyone knew he liked to keep his hacking equipment.

Q closed his eyes and took an exaggerated sip of tea. It was going to be a long day.

Saying a silent prayer of thanks that there was no music blaring out of his new high-tech speakers, he soundlessly made his way across the room and took a seat in his favorite rolling chair, setting his Scrabble Q mug filled with steaming hot Earl Gray onto the table and promptly opening his laptop to begin where he’d left off only hours before…decoding an anonymous tip from an undisclosed location. He’d made little headway and he shivered slightly, knowing Mallory—M—would be asking for an update in an hour and he needed good news to give him.

He set to work, painfully aware that the only sound in the underground lair was the clacking of keys as he typed away at the code. The silence was, as always, a welcome friend. But it also got lonely. He remembered when Q-branch had been out in the open. Back when he’d been R and had constantly been bombarded by the teasing cracks about his age and how Boothroyd—the former Q—had, quite literally, picked him off of the streets. The old man had been the only one to know his secret, to know who he really was. Yet, he never once thought about it effecting his proficiency at work. Never worried a sudden panic attack could send him into—as Boothroyd had liked to call it—'hissertia’ and jeopardize the lives of the 00s. The minions, the double-ohs, and M knew nothing about the truth. They all assumed he’d been selected right out of college for his extremely high IQ. They would never believe that he was actually a gamble, a chance that no one had expected to work out,

After sorting through a bunch of jumble and lettering that did absolutely nothing, Q pressed the enter button and sat back to take a drink before his tea got cold. The monitor beeped to alert him that the program had finished running. Smirking slightly at the simplicity of the operation, he spun back to face the screen. And then, reading the words projected on the laptop, Q froze. His mug slipped from his hand and smashed against the concrete, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stared at the words that were unscrambling on the monitor before his eyes.

**I know what you are.**

Q felt the panic take hold and the fear squeeze at his heart. Surely, _surely_ , this had to be some kind of ill-mannered prank. Surely, he couldn’t have been found out. Not like this. Not so easily. Not when he’d managed to hide it from his co-workers for this long…

Quick, hard footsteps interrupted his horrified thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know who would be standing behind him. There was the distinguishable smell of smoke and alcohol, mixed with the metallic odor of blood and a distinguishable limp. Without looking up, Q smashed his laptop closed, let out his irritation in one fell swoop, and snapped, “Have you tried turning it off and back on?”

His hiss of annoyance became clearly audible, however, as he looked from his computers at the heart-wrenching crash of mangled metal hitting his desk. The dark and looming shadow of the double-oh covered everything in sight and the Quartermaster couldn’t bite back his irritation as he laid eyes on the heap of incinerated junk he assumed had once been a perfectly functioning glock. He pushed it away absentmindedly with a pencil. “Bond…” he began in a low threatening growl.

“Q,” came 007’s icy voice, intentionally mocking the younger man’s tone. And then he noticed the shattered mug. “ _Q_ ,” he repeated more firmly. “Are you all right?”

Q frowned, giving him a steely glare over the top of his lenses. “ _Bond_ ,” he repeated firmly, prodding the unfortunate piece of metal. “Do I need to remind you of the policies for returning your weapons? Preferably _functional.”_

Bond smirked, not looking at all apologetic as he folded his arms and rocked back and forth on his balls of his feet. “You know as well as I that I’m not always at fault for everything that happens. Somethings are just out of my control.”

Q snorted in disbelief but stuffed the remains into his desk anyway. “I don’t understand how you can destroy so much equipment,” he grumbled loud enough for the older man to hear. Bond, wisely, said nothing, and merely raised his eyebrows as though daring the Quartermaster to go on. “But, somehow,” Q obliged, sliding his rolling chair across the room to one of his minions’ desks and setting a stack of folders on top of an already teetering pile. “I don’t think I really want to know.” He came back over more slowly, placing his hands back on the keyboard to return to work. He had hardly completed a line of coding before he paused, realizing Bond was still there. Slowly, he looked up. “Is there something else?” he added, his tone a bit sharper than he’d intended it to be.

Bond shrugged. “No. That’s all.” He didn’t seem to notice the flux in the hacker’s tone. Even if he did, he said nothing. Q coughed it off awkwardly.

“In that case, good day, 007.” The Quartermaster gestured for Bond to shoo. The agent snorted in amusement before turning sharply on his heel and disappearing back into the elevator.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Q quickly turned back to the task at hand, opening his screen once more, mortified to find more words scrambling onto his screen.

**You aren’t as safe as you think you are.**

Thinking quickly, Q decided to try and back-hack the source of the messages, maybe find an IP address. No such luck. There was a faint ping as one final message cropped up on his screen.

**Identities built on lies will get you killed.**

Q frowned and continued his back trace.

His phone began to ring. Groaning, he quickly drew it from his pocket. The ID read 007. With a grudging sigh, he answered. “Bond, if there was something you needed you could have just—”

His snide remark was cut off by the earth-shaking explosion that followed and this caused him to react almost on instinct, throwing himself behind his desk before the flames could reach him and covering his head protectively with his arms. Which was a bit of a disappointment, if he were being honest. He’d thought the quip up pretty quickly and had been looking forward to using it. The force of the blast enveloped his desk and charred his laptop.

His body felt like it was on fire. His ears rang. His lungs burned. His hands burned. But, somehow, he was still alive. The bomb that had clearly been intended for him had missed by mere centimeters.

His brief moment of relief was lost however, at furious shouting from the tunnels and the wild gunshots that ensued. Q, knowing that could mean only one thing, frantically scanned the empty catacombs for something to use as a weapon, or, better yet, a place to hide. It was only then that he realized 007’s voice had been yelling through the speaker for the past minute.

“Q? Q! Answer me! What’s happening?”

“Hostiles in Q-branch!” Q gasped out, finally deciding to stand up and start toward the door. This was a mistake, as he immediately realized, finding himself staring down the barrel of a cocked gun. And the man holding it was not one of his.

“Q! Hold on!” Bond was shouting. “I’m coming to you now! Hunker down until I get there! Do not engage! I repeat, DO NOT—”

“Drop it,” the man snarled, gesturing vaguely to the phone with the gun before centering the weapon squarely against Q’s chest. “Or I put a bullet through you. Now, _drop it_!”

Q did as he was told, while simultaneously raising his hands into the air in a show of surrender. The man chuckled, a terrible sound. Already, Q could feel the terror welling up inside of him. His hands were shaking, and his brain was shutting down. He was losing control. He knew it. And there was nothing he could do. The thin threads of sanity were slipping out from between his fingers like water. He had mere seconds before it happened. His heart began to beat more rapidly as he struggled to regain control, gripping the edges of his desk and beginning to inhale and exhale deeply. A brief moment of fear jarred his body as he realized that the urge was too strong, and that, this time, he wasn’t going to be able to keep it together. _Quietly_ , he reminded himself. _Be inconspicuous._

Even as the change washed over him, he heard the storming footsteps of the double-oh rushing down the hall behind the intruders and the frantic sounds of gun fire. But it was too late. The panic was out. There was no way to stop it. He swore he saw a flash of color and concerned blue eyes reach him just as the last of his strength left him and he fell to the floor. “Bond…” he whispered.

“Q! Hold on! We’ve got you! We’re going to get you out! Tanner! Call Medical! No, I don’t _care_ what time it is! Call them! This is an emergency!”

“007…” Q hissed once more, trying desperately to gain his agent’s attention. Bond turned to face him. He opened his mouth to say something.

And then Q closed his eyes and blacked out.


	2. Mass Hissteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Q gets busted, chaos ensues...

The sudden burst of light slowly seeped into his closed eyelids. He whimpered, flattening his ears, wishing there were a way to keep it out, to keep it away from him. It hurt his eyes. He blinked, taking his first glance around and regretted the action almost instantly. Everything was disorienting. The wrong color. The wrong size. Everything was _huge_. He could see his desk…well, what was left of it…burning a few meters away. Somehow, when he’d passed out, he must have lost control and unknowingly and instinctively scrambled for cover.

With a small snivel, he pulled in his tiny shaking body and wished desperately for a way to cover his small and overly sensitive ears from the thunder of gunshots and the clatter of casings hitting the earth not far away. Terror ripped through his heart and he tucked his tail between his legs, flattening his ears and backing further behind the massive pillars. He hated himself for it. He was the Quartermaster of MI6 for heaven’s sake! What was he doing, cowering in a corner like a…well, like a coward! It was the gunfire, he tried to convince himself. He’d always hated guns. Quite ironic, now that he thought about it, to be scared stiff at even the sound of shots when he worked in the department that _designed_ such weapons.

And now, he could hear 007’s worried calls rise above the noise as the gunfire began to die away. “Q? Q! Where are you?”

 _Here!_ Q tried to take a small step forward, but his newly grown limbs refused to comply. He could barely move his ears and tail, let alone four miniature paws. _007! I’m here!_ He opened his mouth to call out to his double-oh, but instead of a sarcastic, grim, low voice, all that came out was pathetic mew that matched the emotion coursing through him.

“Q?”

Bond was walking away now. Q began to panic. The agent would never see him! He was looking for a human, not a kitten the size of a hand-purse! And if Bond didn’t find him, the double-oh would assume he’d been kidnapped, go on some stupidly insane mission, and nearly get himself killed. As his quartermaster, Q couldn’t allow that. Not for him. He had to find a way to let him know somehow!

 _Bond!_ _Look at me!_ He took a deep breath and, against his better judgement, knowing, without a doubt, how embarrassing this was going to be later, he raised his meow to a caterwaul. Almost as quickly at the sound came out, he snapped his jaws shut, feeling his face burning up in a terrible flush. If he could blush, he was sure he would be.

No matter how humiliating, it seemed to produce the desired result. Bond whipped around to face him in confusion, not seeming to comprehend the situation. How could he? His quartermaster had just disappeared into thin air and, considering Q had done his very best to avoid telling anyone about his…condition…he doubted very much that the agent would connect the dots. However, Bond at least had the decency to realize that there was a living creature in Q-branch, one that certainly did not belong there. Immediately, the tough agent’s expression melted away into something Q had never expected. Gentleness. Any other time, the young man might have gotten a good heckle out of it. But not now. Not as he felt Bond’s callused hands close around his frail, quaking body and lift him into the air.

Q yowled in terror as his paws left the floor. _Gah! Heights! Put me down! 007! Down! That’s an_ orde _r! BOND_! Though he had absolutely no control over his body, he couldn’t help but squirm and wail and protest to the entirety of his ability. He yowled. It was a gut-wrenching sound. But it seemed to do the trick nonetheless. Then, when Bond’s grip loosened in shock, Q took his chance, wriggling free of the double-oh and dropping like a rock to the ground.

Bond burst out laughing.

Q groaned, his ribs smarting from his landing. His paws were spread out in all directions and his tail stuck out straight behind him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and hide. Very unbecoming for MI6’s most brilliant mind. But he was the Quartermaster, not a field agent. Being daring hadn’t been anywhere in the job description.

“ _Fine_. Be like that,” he heard 007 mutter and, for a moment, he was surprised by the sudden change in Bond’s tone. He’d never heard anything like it. The best he could guess was the agent preferred to hold on to the mask of gruff and uncaring, barely ever peeling away the false appearance for the truth buried beneath. Q understood. Being kind, gentle, and caring could get an agent killed. Bond was merely protecting himself. “See if I give a darn if you fry. I don’t _have_ to help you, you sorry excuse for a cotton ball.”

Q narrowed his eyes almost involuntarily at the insult. If Bond had had the gutsiness to say that to his Quartermaster’s face, he would have found himself without any personal ID, all of his banking accounts wiped, and no functioning credit cards. But, of course, James didn’t know who he was addressing, and even if the thought of making 007 virtually disappear off of the face of the planet did sound a _little bit_ appealing, Q knew he’d have a hard time doing _anything_ while lacking apposable thumbs. He needed his body back. Which meant he had to relax. And that was rather hard to do in a room full of dead bodies.

He sighed. Like it or not, he couldn’t walk on his own, not yet. He _needed_ Bond to carry him, no matter how much indignation it would cause him later. So, with as much dignity as he could muster, he heaved himself up onto four shaky paws, brushing his fur against the wall for balance, and mewed softly. His legs quivered slightly, feeling a lot like limp noodles, but he did his best to come off as just an ordinary house kitten, struggling to lift his head and blink large gray eyes at the man he was momentarily going to use as transportation.

And Bond, not as heartless as he appeared, couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bundle of fur before him. After all, even tough double-ohs could be broken down at the sight of a helpless, five-inch long, floundering kitten. Q would have to remember this tactic the next time Bond brought in damaged or destroyed equipment.

“All right,” the agent sighed, his eyes searching the room, as though scanned for his techie once more. “All right, come on, then.” He reached down, and this time, Q braced himself, preparing for the worst outcome (getting dropped again), and silently praying that 007 would at least have the common sense to _try_ not to drop him. He closed his eyes as he felt Bond’s hands wrap around him once more and only yelped a little as his paws were lifted from the ground. Bond wrapped an arm underneath him to keep him from sliding, and the other he lifted in an unconscious gesture to rub between the kitten’s ears.

 _Bond_! Q squirmed uncomfortably. _I’m not really a cat_! But, of course, he knew Bond couldn’t understand him. So, he did the only sane thing he could think of at that moment…he nipped down hard on one of Bond’s fingers.

“Ow!” Bond swore, retracting his hand quickly, while keeping the other firmly underneath the kitten. “What was that for?” He paused. “Yes, I am talking to a cat. Q, if you’re somewhere outside this room watching me on video, please delete those last few seconds. I don’t need to sound insane.”

 _Not on your life_. Q couldn’t help the low rumble of satisfaction that rolled across his chest. Unexpected blackmail was the best kind. And he intended to use every little bit of it to his advantage. _Now_ , he added mentally, forcing his body to comply to what he hoped was a convincing stretch of boredom. _Onward, 007! Some idiot just blew up my bat-cave. I want answers! And I can’t get them like this!_

“Demanding little furball, aren’t you?” Bond sighed. “All right. Well, little fella, let’s get you out of here so I can get back to looking for my friend.” With that, he turned away and, after securing Q in his arms, started toward the lift. Q weakly lifted his head and blinked, wondering how the intruders had managed to get through his high-tech security systems. The outside was protected by several layers of specially designed equipment, including facial recognition, palm scanners, and IDs. Some even involved completing two or more actions at the same time or in sequence. No one of typical status would be able to bypass the system.

Which meant it had to have been an inside job.

That sent chills through his body. It was a horrid thought, to think that one of his own agents might have been responsible for trying to kill him. And the worst part, no one knew he was still alive. As far as everyone, including Bond, knew, he’d been killed, or at least kidnapped.

“Q?” Bond went back to calling. “Quartermaster, are you here?”

 _Here! Down here!_ Q was frustrated that he couldn’t get his agent’s attention. He let out a meow to prove it.

“I know, I know,” Bond mumbled. “You’re right. He’s not here.” With one final sweep of the room, Bond pulled his coat tighter and entered the lift. “All right,” he added, opening one side of his coat. “You might want to climb in there. It’s a bit nippy out for a beast of your— _stature_.”

Q glared at him, but obeyed nonetheless, awkwardly putting one forepaw out, and then the other, latching on to the edge of the inner coat pocket with his tiny claws and heaving the limp, unresponsive half of his body inside. It was warm and he shuddered, tucking himself as far in as he dared. He didn’t want Bond to see that he was cold. Not only was it unprofessional, he was riding in Bond’s _coat_ for crying out loud! His day could _literally_ not get any worse.

The ride to the waiting boat was made in almost complete silence. Reaching the surface, however, Q looked up as 007 drew out his mobile and quickly dialed Moneypenny. “Eve,” he spoke before she even had a chance to speak. “Yes, it’s me. Listen, Q-branch has been infiltrated…No, don’t worry. I took care of them… Ah, yes. In there lies the problem. You see, Q’s missing. Eve…” He held the device away from his ear and Q’s sensitive ears caught wind of the familiar screech of alarm from the older woman. “ _Moneypenny_ …no… _no_ , don’t worry. I’m not leaving until I find him. Yes. Yes, go ahead. He’ll want to know. All right. _Fine_.” He hung up before she could start on another rant. “I _know_ Q’s vital to MI6,” he grumbled to himself. “I’m quite aware of the breach of protocol.”

Q hiccupped irritably before burrowing further into the coat and closing his eyes. If he was going to be held hostage in Bond’s pocket, the least he could do is get some shuteye. It might help him relax, which would be good when he was ready to change back. In other words, _as soon as possible_.

He rested as they exited the caverns and sailed down the Thames toward the new (and no less flashy) MI6 building. He was startled from his sleep as the engine of the boat was suddenly cut and Bond began to climb ashore. About this time, Q decided he had had enough of the underside of Bond’s coat and began to thrash around wildly, pairing it with some protestant mews.

“All right, all right,” 007 grunted, helping him out and setting him down on the slick pavement. “I suppose you’ll be trotting along now. Off to find your friends no doubt. I should wish you luck. It’s a big city out there.” With that, he swished his coat closer and started for the building.

Q struggled to follow, managed to stagger to his paws, then, unable to balance himself, promptly fell on his face with (though he’d never confess it anyone) a high-pitched yip. Bond paused at this and turned back with the faintest trace of amusement. “Are you trying to follow me, little cotton ball? This isn’t a place for feline fuzzballs.” Still, he stood there, watching as Q looked up at him with pleading eyes. Bond sighed, unable to resist. “All right,” he gave in. “I suppose you can come. Eve would give me an earful if I didn’t at least make sure you weren’t injured.” He trudged back over and, in one fell swoop, picked up the squirming bundle of fur, tucking one hand underneath his belly and the other on the nape of his neck. Q didn’t understand why he didn’t protest, but he knew newborn kittens were carried by their mother in a similar way. He supposed he may have had more cat in him than he’d originally estimated.

It was calming and, suddenly, an unexpected noise rumbled through his chest. _I’m purring!_ He realized to his great horror. _Stop it!_ _Stop it!_ He chastised himself. _No purring!_ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing and abolish the betraying noise that refused to be stifled without a fight.

They entered the building and, though he received a few strange looks, Bond passed through security easily. Everyone knew him. There was no impersonating those bright blue eyes or grim determination etched into his jaw. With a lofty wave to a few workers, Bond went straight for M’s office, not stopping when several guards attempted to prevent his progress. He burst through the door a moment later and was met by a sour Moneypenny.

“JAMES!” she yelled before he could even close the door behind him. Q cringed and Bond coaxed him out of his arms and onto Moneypenny’s desk. Q made sure to move as dramatically slow as possible as he flopped down on some of her papers and gave an exaggerated yawn, curling up and pretending to go promptly to sleep while actually listening to the agents’ yelling match.

“What were you _thinking_?” Moneypenny started. “We could have wrung one of those guys for information! We could have figured out why Q-branch was targeted! You didn’t have to pull the trigger!”

“And if I hadn’t?” Bond retorted. “Q would be dead!”

“How do you know he’s _not_?”

“How do you know he _is?_ Moneypenny, it wasn’t an organized hit! Whatever those men were after, it wasn’t Q! He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

“And now he’s missing!” Eve cried.

 _Right here, you know._ Q mewed in protest.

“Not now, kitty,” Eve went on, waving him off.

Q shrugged and went back to dozing.

“Where’d she come from anyway?” Moneypenny questioned, pointing at him.

“ _He,_ ” Bond corrected.

“’He’? How do you know?”

007 shrugged. “I just do.” He went over to stand behind her desk. “Look, Eve, I _promise_ I’ll find Q.”

“Well, you’d better,” Moneypenny huffed, coming over to join him and holding out her hand to Q who, to his surprise as much as hers, reached up so she could run a hand over his head. “He’s just a _boy_ , Bond.”

“That ‘boy’, as you call him,” Bond retorted. “Is smarter than half of the double-oh program combined. I’m sure he’s just fine. There be no criminal here on earth or hell below that would mess with our Quartermaster.”

“You’d better hope that’s the case, 007,” came a low voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see M standing there, looking as cross, if not crosser, than ever. Then, without acknowledging them any further, he passed Moneypenny’s desk toward his office. “For all of our sakes. The minister is already breathing down my neck about the way things are handled around here. Losing our Quartermaster in his own branch is a _disaster_! Find him, 007! And that’s an order!” With that, he disappeared into his office and closed the door with a slam.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Bond sighed with a small eyeroll.

Q looked up as the two began to pace thoughtfully. Suddenly, he felt a wave of nausea bubble up in his throat. _Whoop. Time to exit. Stage left_! With a groan, he stood up shakily and put all of his effort into moving one paw in front of the other. _Not here. Please. Not here! Okay…okay, Q…think! Okay…off the table! Come on! Move your furry rump!_ Shooting a glance at Bond and Moneypenny and finding them wrapped up in their own thoughts, he decided to make a break for it. Taking a deep breath, he stared down at the floor and, summoning all of his courage, jumped.

 _Ow…_ He could feel his heart leaping up into his throat and his paws stung as he landed. He was aware of both agents watching him and that only urged him to scramble up and hobble out of the room. He almost didn’t make it. Even as he hit the wall and stumbled for the restroom, he could feel the morph coming.

Pawing open the door and hurrying in, he shifted halfway there, falling against the sink, his hands grasping desperately at the spigots as he struggled to right himself. He came up gasping, glasses hazardously askew and cardigan rumpled even more so than usual. The nausea remained, the reminding factor of his sudden transformation. “Okay…” he wheezed, running his hands through his messy hair. “I need an excuse…I was…I was,” he frowned, his brain drawing a blank, a first for him. He stared at himself in the mirror. “What _was_ I doing?”

“You were keeping secrets, Quartermaster.”

The low voice was so sudden and so unexpected that Q nearly leaped out of his skin. He spun and felt his muscles tense automatically to bolt. But there was a problem with that plan.

Make that two problems.

Two very _big_ problems. And their names were Bond and Moneypenny. One looked outraged, the other had her hands over her mouth in shock, looking like she wanted to say something but lacked words.

And it was Bond who spoke first.

“Q? _What’s_ going on?”


	3. A Game of Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M gets involved...

" _Q_?"

Moneypenny's tone was hard. Shocked, but hard. And her stare seemed to burn into his very soul. It was a look of pity and hurt. Pity because she could clearly tell that the morphing was painful. Hurt because he hadn't confided in her, hadn't trusted her enough to share his secret. He felt extraordinarily guilty about this. He would have told her, but he already got enough strange looks from his underlings as it was. They already thought of him as an inhuman freak. He didn’t need to add _uncontrollable_ _shapeshifter_ to that list as well.

But her look was nothing, _nothing_ , compared to the fierce glare Bond was giving him. For the first time since joining MI6, Q suddenly had the powerful desire to disappear off of the face of the planet. He stared firmly at the ugly floor tiles, wishing they'd just open up and swallow him whole, and refused to look up and meet their questioning and demanding glares. " _Well_?" Bond barked, sounding exceptionally angry for his person. Granted, he was taking it extraordinarily well, Q thought. He wasn’t dead yet. So that was _something_ at least. He faltered, eying the double-oh’s gun, wondering how much urging it would take for Bond to shoot him now and put him out of his misery. 

Q opened his mouth to sputter out a weak excuse, paused, realizing it would do him no good to lie (not that he’d ever been very good at fibbing anyway) , and only managed a weak, "Moneypenny, this is the _men's_ restroom." He tried to tame his shaking voice, knowing full well that it wouldn’t do him a lick of good. Besides, Eve had always been extraordinarily good at reading him (something that had caused him extreme embarrassment on more than one occasion) and she’d know if he was lying in seconds.

Moneypenny didn’t miss a beat. “So, you’d better explain quickly.” She folded her arms and leaned against the wall, raising her eyebrows as though daring him to try and get past her.

Seeing she was serious, Q hesitantly glanced between her and Bond who was eyeing him as though he were some sort of shiny new weapon. It was a bit unsettling. Behind them, however, he spotted the cracked window (the glass had been splintered a few weeks before and the repairs were slow). And, suddenly, Q knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath and turned slowly on his heels to face the two agents, hands spread out to his sides to show he wasn’t going to try anything. He felt a ping of guilt rush through him as he watched them over the top of his lenses. They trusted him, he knew. So, he also knew they were going to hate what was coming next.

He closed his eyes and morphed back.

There was a startled yelp from Moneypenny and Bond swore as the tiny black kitten fled across the smooth floor, slipping and sliding over his own paws. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Bond yelled, lunging for him. Q reacted instantly, squeezing underneath a stall door. He felt the whoosh of air as Bond’s hand closed around air just centimeters behind his tail. “Q! Get _back_ here!” the 007 threw open the door, but Q had already slid into the adjacent stall, running as fast as his little legs would allow him. He continuously wobbled uncontrollably and he half-suspected he was only able to move due the pure rush of adrenaline. His mind wasn’t functioning (or else he’d never have run) and all he could think was that he couldn’t get caught.

“Q! If I knew your full name, I’d be using it, right now! Middle name and all!” Bond sounded vexed. Q didn’t really blame him. He’d probably feel the same if he’d learned one of his agents had a freakish ability. But, now was not the time to put himself in Bond’s shoes. Now was the time to hobble away as fast as felinely possible. Bond was catching up. At his current pace, he’d be on top of the quartermaster in moments. “Get your sorry excuse for a rear back here _this instant_!”

Q ignored him and, reaching the wall, threw himself at it, clawing desperately for a hold, mewing pitifully as he did. _Curse my tiny_ _little claws!_ he complained. The window was too high up. He’d never make it. And, even as he turned to run the other way, a cold shadow fell over him and he felt Bond grab him by the nape before he could think.

“That’s enough excitement from you, you spiteful fluffball,” 007 snapped as Q thrashed around, screaming frustrated little wails. Without thinking, Q dug his claws into Bond’s hands and, when the agent hissed in pain, Q tried to wriggle for freedom. But Bond wasn’t about to let him go so easily. The grip tightened and Q whimpered, realizing he was trapped and that the double-oh had no intention at all of letting him go. “Moneypenny, find something to contain him!”

“ _What_?”

“A pet carrier! A box! A _shoe_! I don’t _care_ what! Just find it quickly! This little beast is trying to rip off my hands!”

Q hissed in agreement of that final statement and meowed in protest as Moneypenny came running over with a small cat carrier. He had no idea how she’d managed to find it so quickly and certainly had no intention of going inside. _No_! He struggled again, making it painfully obvious that he disliked the action terribly.

“Sorry, Q,” Moneypenny mumbled, making a face. “But this is for your own good.”

Q shrieked and retracted his claws almost instantly. _I can’t! I can’t_! _Don’t put me in there! I’ll suffocate! BOND! MONEYPENNY!_ Forget dignity. Put him in a tightly closed off place and he’d drown in his own hyperventilation before he’d ever face anyone. It was something he’d never told any of his agents, not wanting them to think him incompetent. But they were about to learn a nasty lesson if they thought they could harass him in such cruel methods. 

He howled, hissed, and spat the entire way there, flailing desperately for the edge of the carrier, digging in his miniature claws and wailing as he couldn’t hold on and was subsequently pushed inside. He whimpered and curled into a tight ball as he felt the walls of the prison pressing in on him. He wanted to cry. Not that the agents would know that, nor was he going to tell them.

“That should hold the little monster,” Bond growled from somewhere to his left.

“Bond! This is still Q we’re talking about!” Moneypenny scolded.

“And that’s supposed to make me amend my words, why?” This was followed promptly by the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Q had the sneaking suspicion that Eve had just hit Bond.

“You insensitive rat!”

Q heard himself purr ever-so-slightly at those words. His amusement turned to panic moments later as the carrier gave a violent lurch and he was lifted into the air. He slammed his eyes shut and splayed his paws out against the edge of the box, feeling every nerve in his body quivering as he stared out of the tiny cracks in terror. _Bond!_ he wanted to scream. There was the sound of the door opening and his mind informed him that they were leaving the bathroom and walking back up the hall.

“James, where are we going?” Moneypenny questioned. Her voice was downwind and huffy, as though she were running after the man.

“To see M,” 007 replied, not slowing his gait at all.

 _M?_ Q’s heart plummeted all the way to the tip of his tail. _007, no!_ If he went to Mallory, the game would be up. He’d never be accepted again…he could even be arrested for subordination! But what was he going to do? He was trapped in a prison of his own doing! He mewed pitifully, feeling his ears sinking against his skull instinctively. He wished the agents could see him. He was sure they’d reconsider the plan if he begged them enough. Moneypenny at least. And she could convince Bond. She _could_. He had faith in her.

 _Moneypenny!_ He forced his meow to rise several decimeters, loud enough to cause Bond to come to a dead halt and for several clerks to glance up at him in surprise, looking him over as though wondering how the noise could have emitted from him. Q was satisfied to see the beginnings of a flush creep up the back of the man’s neck. He decided to humiliate him even further and let out another caterwaul, this one even louder and blood-curdling than the first.

“Q, shush up!” Bond hissed. “I know you don’t like it there, but it’s your own fault.”

Q hissed.

“And don’t give me any of that,” 007 went on sternly. “You may be my superior and your security clearance may be a hundred times higher, but I am still your senior and I say you need to learn to cool off. Now, come on. _Behave_ and I might even scrounge up a treat or two.”

 _Oh joy._ Q growled internally. Cat treats. How unappealing. He wrinkled his nose before tucking in his paws and burying his face into his fur in an act of submission. Not that he wanted to listen to Bond. At _all_. But what was he supposed to do? Claw the agents to death? With _pin-sized_ claws? Besides, he didn’t want to hurt Moneypenny. He actually _liked_ her. Bond, on the other hand, could do with a good bit of clawing.

Bond opened the door to Moneypenny’s office and they went straight for M’s door, forget knocking. Moneypenny still had her fist raised to warn M of their arrival when the agent simply turned the knob and threw the door open, startling M who looked up calmly from his lunch with a look in extreme annoyance. “Ah, 007. No, no need to knock. Just come on in,” he sighed sarcastically, waving a hand toward the empty chair across the table. “Please, take a seat. And do try not to blow it up.” He smiled wryly. “I am actually rather fond of it. If you don’t mind.”

Bond ignored all of this and hurried forward, dropping the cat carrier onto the table. Q yelped at the sudden action and he was aware of M’s confused and startled look as he looked up through the netted top at the man. M arched an eyebrow before sitting back in his chair and folding his hands patiently. “Well? Must I ask why you’ve brought a…a _cat_ …into my office, acting like it was a dirty bomb?”

“It’s Q, sir,” Bond explained as Moneypenny quietly closed the door behind them.

 _Oh smooth, 007_. Q couldn’t help but snicker at the unflattering way Bond had gone into the description. _Say hello to Charlie from Head Trauma for me._

“ _What’s_ Q?” Mallory sounded like he was trying to digest what one of his best agents had just said and determining if he needed to see Medical about a mis-firing part of his brain.

“The cat,” Bond said as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“The…the _cat_? 007, are you sure you didn’t—”

“The cat _is_ Q,” Bond interrupted as if he’d expected this reaction. “Here. I’ll show you.”

Q watched warily as the zipper was undone and Bond’s face appeared at the front of the carrier. Almost without thinking, he let out a hiss and arched his back, slinking to the back of the cell, muttering catlike grumbles under his breath. Of course, they were all about how his dignity would be ruined after Q-branch got wind that he was transported in _a pet carrier_ to see M and how he’d never hear the end of it and how no one would ever respect him again, but it wasn’t like any of them could understand his complaints. Q swore under his breath. Of course, being a _cat_ , stuck in a _cat’s_ body, with a _cat’s_ set of vocal cords instead of a human’s, the sound that came out sounded a lot more like a string of growls and grunts than audible words, and as soon as the horrid noise came out of his mouth, he wanted nothing more than to find the nearest window and toss himself out of it. The entire situation was _humiliating_. What’s more, it was _childish_ , and, as three pairs of eyes turned on him, he wished he had the power to melt right into the pet carrier.

“See?” Bond said flatly. “Hates my very existence, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he signaled Moneypenny over. She did the same as Bond, but her movements were gentler, more compassionate. He hardly protested as she caught a hold of him and drew him to the front carrier. “Eve, on the other hand…you know the two of them have been friends since day one.”

“I see,” Mallory seemed a little less skeptical, but still far from being convinced. “And what, is…Q…doing in a…cat carrier?” He raised an eyebrow at 007 curiously. Meanwhile, Moneypenny was trying to smother a laugh with the back of her hand (and failing miserably, Q might add).

“Well, you see, sir,” Evie began to explain. “Q is…well, to put it lightly—”

“Q’s a mangy furball,” Bond cut off her attempts at easing the situation. “Who mauled me on several occasions when I tried to offer assistance. Sir, he even spits. Show him, Q.”

Q obliged, letting out one long hiss, just to prove that it was him. Forget Bond shooting him. _Now_ he was cursing everything in sight and praying that the ceiling might collapse on top of him and put him out of his misery. With that having been said, he raised his chin haughtily and stumbled out of the carrier with as much grace as a flamingo in the arctic, positioning himself at the one place on the desk where he could be seen by all three agents, could wait for his fate from M, and keep a warning glare on Bond, all at once.

“It seems he changes when subject to extreme pressure or stress,” Moneypenny added helpfully. “But, I’m afraid, anymore than that, and you’d have to ask Q.”

Mallory nodded. “Then that’s what I do. Q,” he said firmly, glancing down, still slightly disbelieving, at the furry creature sitting on his desk. “I’d like you to change back now. You and I need to have a talk.”

Q nodded, submitting to his fate. He knew it was going to happen sooner or later _. Might as well get it done now_. He took a deep breath and turned, preparing himself to leap from the table, transform mid-leap, and land gracefully human. So, he threw himself at the edge of the desk, and, with as much grace as he could muster with four paws, threw himself off of it.

 _All right_ , he told himself mid-leap. _That’s enough. No more hiding. Time to come clean_. He forced back the swell of panic that swept through him at the thought and focused only on shifting back to his normal, grouchy, _human_ self. He landed gracefully, eyes squeezed tightly shut, legs trembling. He listened. Though, what he was expecting to hear, he didn’t really know. Surprise from M? Satisfaction from Moneypenny and Bond? Either way, none of that came.

Q turned, confused, noting their frowns and fearful expressions (the last was Moneypenny’s), and couldn’t help but instinctively glance down at himself.

And that was when he realized his problem.

 _Paws…I still have paws…_ Nearly screaming in terror, he twisted his neck around, finding his body still covered in soft black fur and a tail flicking nervously back and forth. _Uh oh._ He swung back around to stare at the others with wide eyes. _Oh no, no, no, please. Don’t let this be happening to me! Change! Change, darn it! Stop being a cat! Human! Turn human!_ Please _!_

“Q?” Bond questioned. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you change back?”

 _Do you think I wouldn’t if I could?_ Q hissed. _I quite prefer my human body, thank you very much! Okay, okay, Q, think. Think. Breathe. What’s going on? Why is it not working? Okay, calm down. Think logically…think…HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK LOGICALLY WHEN I AM STUCK IN A STUPID CAT’S BODY!?_

“Q?”

Footsteps. He looked up in time to see Moneypenny kneel down beside him and scoop him gingerly into her arms. He didn’t know why, but her arms around him were instantly soothing, and he could feel the initial panic beginning to fade away. “Hey, sweetie,” she whispered, addressing him just like she did everyone else when they were having a mental breakdown. How she knew, however, was beyond him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just relax, all right? Take your time. We won’t force you to do anything until you’re ready, okay? So, just focus on breathing.”

Q closed his eyes and let out a small breath at her words. He laid his head against her arm and inhaled again. His mind swam with possible scenarios for his inability to change. They were all lost, however, in Moneypenny’s soothing tide of whispers, and, before he knew what was happening, he found his eyelids growing heavy.

He fell asleep like that, purring, in Moneypenny’s arms.


	4. Tuna Fish and Hand Grenades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch may be a bit of a problem, and its not the only thing...

"So, what you're telling me is: Q doesn't know how he shifts, and until he figures it out, he's going to be _stuck_ like that?"

"Well, it's not like we actually have anything to work with, but yes, in theory, that's correct."

Q awoke to the breathy swear echoing from across the empty wall. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing as a sharp pain from the back of his forehead rose to greet him. To his immense disappointment, it took only one look for him to know that he was still a cat. Apparently, Moneypenny hadn't been able to completely calm him. He set out a small sigh and swept his tail in closer to his body, deciding to get comfortable once more, go back to sleep, and then wake himself from the nightmare.

"How are we supposed to help him if he can't even explain what's wrong with him?"

"What's wrong with... _James_ , he's a _cat_! Not some kind of disease! Show a bit of compassion, man!" Moneypenny exclaimed, sinking loudly into a rolling chair. By the sound it made, it could only be a short distance away, meaning the room itself was rather small and enclosed. Q guessed they were in his office...well, what was left of it. By the incessant clicking, he also assumed Moneypenny was typing something into her computer. That, or Bond was just _trying_ to be irritating.

"What are you doing?" Bond questioned. Footsteps echoed off of the hard tile and Q flicked an ear at the sound. "'How do take care of cats.' _Really_ , Eve?"

"Oh, like you have any more idea than I do," came the snapped retort. "Q needs us. At least until he can change back and fend for himself again. Besides, what is everyone going to say when we tell them their beloved Quartermaster has been transformed into a five-inch long furry house pet?"

007 snorted, but Q felt a stream of warmth tingle through his body, along with an increased respect for Moneypenny. Deciding that it was time to make his presence known, he lifted his head and gave a small yip. Immediately, both agents whipped around and, as Q blinked his tiredness away, he was aware of Moneypenny as she reached his side at an instant. "Hey, sleepyhead," she whispered, reaching down to pat him gently on the head. Q looked up at her passively. "Welcome back."

_ How long was I out? _ With a bit of mental effort, Q staggered up and arched his back into a stretch. He flexed his claws a couple of times before straightening up and settling back into a seated position expectantly. He flicked an ear and glanced toward the clock. 11:30. He'd slept the morning away! Almost as in response, he felt his stomach rumble. He scanned the room hopefully, half-heartedly hoping there would be something he could eat. He felt his nose twitching as he thought about it, and Moneypenny seemed to notice.

"What is it?" she questioned. "Q?"

_ Hungry. I'm hungry! Oh...how do I explain this to you?  _ With a sad mew, he began pacing around the table, searching for his supply of Earl Gray that he kept behind a shelf of books. He batted at the books, flicking his ears irritably, hoping one of them would understand.

"Oh, come on, Q," Bond grumbled. "This is no time to be _reading_! We've got bigger things to worry about right now!"

Q sighed and wished he were strong enough to smack the double-oh upside the head. Instead, he just growled and continued batting against the bindings. "James, I don't...think he's trying to read," Moneypenny said gently. "I think he's trying to tell us something. Come here." As the agent came over, Eve began to sift through the books and Q sat back, pleased that someone kind of understood. Moneypenny easily found the teabags and held them up, making a face. "Sorry, Q, but I don't think cats are supposed to drink tea." He looked at her mournfully. "But if you're hungry..." she trailed off and twisted toward Bond. "Where's your lunch?"

007 stared at her as though she'd just sprouted horns and said she'd come from outer space. "Pardon?"

"Your _lunch_ , Bond!" Eve snapped, waving him on. "It's a tuna sandwich, right? For goodness sake, _go fetch it_!"

Bond obeyed, hurrying from the room. Q watched in amusement at Moneypenny's extraordinary ability to make Bond do whatever she wished. The smallest of catish smiles spread across his face as he settled down and curled his tail in expectantly. Moneypenny caught the motion and winked at him.

Bond returned moments later, a small platter of an assortment of things clutched tightly in his hands. "Care to explain what it is you're planning to do with this?" he questioned as he set it on the desk and slid it toward Eve. "You do realize that this is my meal, right?"

"Well, now you're going to share, 007."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, _relax_ Bond. He's a cat. He's not going to eat that much."

"Like he did before," Bond muttered under his breath, though he made no move to stop her.

Neither said anything and, in one swift movement, Eve used the fork to scrape off a chunk of the tuna from the sandwich and slide it off to the side of the tray. It wasn't much, but with the current size of Q's stomach, it would be about right. Bond scowled but said nothing as Q padded forward to eat gratefully. He was sure it was the messiest meal he'd ever devoured, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. Just having food in his belly was enough. Even if he couldn't have tea with it.

"Why don't you help yourself to the rest while you're at it?" Bond grumbled, giving up and sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms impatiently. "As I seem to have become the servant for a feline, I'll just go scrounge up something else. Maybe blackmail one of your minions? If I recall, R still owes me money from that wager last month."

_ Which you lost. _ Q paused mid-bite and hissed warningly. _Stay away from my crew, Bond. I mean it._ He didn't know if Bond got the message, and at the moment, he didn't really care. R was one of his toughest hackers. There was a reason she was his second. She was the only other one he knew who could stand up to Bond and not bend under the pressure...other than Moneypenny, of course.

" _Whatever,_ " Bond grumbled. "Just hurry up and change back, would you? I have much more _important_ things to attend to than being your personal gopher and lunch-bearer all day."

They both glared at him and Moneypenny looked about ready to shoot him right then and there. Again. And it wouldn't be an accident. Q only sighed and shifted to go back to sleep. For some reason, being a cat spent a lot more energy than being a human. He didn't quite understand it. He'd have to remember to look it up later, when he was back in his human form.

"Okay, now, let's be reasonable here," Moneypenny decided, coming around the desk to sit behind Q. "Q, do you have any idea how you change? Or perhaps the first time you did it? Maybe that could help us pinpoint when this all started."

Q shook his head slowly. He didn't. And it was the truth. He really didn't know how and when it had all started. He just recalled waking up in his flat one day shrunk to the size of a purse and covered from head to toe with fuzzy black fur. And it had been a truly terrifying experience. For the first few minutes, he was convinced that the government had managed to track all of his hacks (and they had, he just wouldn't learn that until later) and had somehow transformed him into a cat to keep him quiet.

"Well, I'd say, by the way you were stumbling around like a blind lump back in the catacombs," Bond interjected, grabbing a wad of paper towels and wrapping them gingerly around his hands. Q guiltily noticed that they were still bleeding. "That was either the first or second time you'd shifted. Idiot cat wounded me," he added, seeing Moneypenny's confused glance.

Q couldn't hold back his eye roll. It was just a scratch. If he had wanted to hurt Bond, he would have struck a _lot_ harder. But he did, grudgingly, give the double-oh a nod of confirmation on his first statement. It had been his second shift. And no less terrifying than the first.

"It wasn't any more than a paper cut. Don't be so dramatic." Eve sighed, voicing Q's unsaid words. "And when you shift," She added, coming over to stoop down to look straight at Q. "You seem to keep your human conscious. So, maybe it's only your body that changes?"

He nodded again, quicker this time. And it was true. He was still the same Q in both forms. One was just smaller and fuzzier.

"And you have no idea how it happens?"

He shook his head, letting out a sad little mew to emphasis. He huffed and closed his eyes, as though not seeing them would somehow help his memory function more properly. 

"Well, first thing's first, we need a better means of communication," Eve stated. "Oh!" She brightened. "That gives me an idea! Q!" She collects her laptop and sets it on the table before the kitten, opening up a blank word document. "There, how's that?" she questioned.

Q reached out with a paw to gently batter a key. It took a bit of effort but he managed. Excruciatingly slowly, he typed out a single word message for them.

_ 0 _

_ 0 _

_ 7 _

Eve laughed at this while the double-oh just looked confused. Q pounced on the "M" key and set to work on the next word.

_ Medication _

This was followed closely by the rest of the broken phrase.

_ Bag _

_ Desk  _

007 stared. He didn't move. 

_ NOW Bond _

Bond hopped to it, coming around to the back of the desk (not before making sure Q saw his eye roll, however) and picking up Q's messenger bag. He set it on the table and began sifting through it. Time passed. James pulled out a prototype exploding pen (gave Q a cheeky grin for that), a stale snack-sized back of crisps (he'd honestly forgotten those were there), a half-functional grenade (thank goodness he'd forgotten to arm them) and, finally, an empty plastic baggy. Q groaned and buried his head in his paws when Bond held it up questioningly. 

"Q? What is it? What kind of medication do you need?" Eve opened her phone, ready to find the nearest pharmacy, but Q just shook his head and positioned himself to type better.

_ Not bought _

_ Q made it _

_ Calms me _

_ Helps me change back _

_ Flat _

"Okay," Bond said, leaning back on his heels and folding his arms thoughtfully. "So, do you have more at your flat, or are you saying _you're_ flat? Because I don't think you need to lose any more weight."

_ Was that an attempt at a joke, Bond? _ Q flicked his ears irritably _. Really?_

"I'll take you," Eve volunteered, pulling her coat on and adjusting her hood. "I have an hour lunch break anyway. And I'll drive," she added. "Since I don't think pets are allowed on the tube." 

_ Pets?  _ Before Q could register that thought, Moneypenny had already scooped him up and settled him into the outer pocket of her trench coat. He squirmed, momentarily attempting to right himself so his head could stick out. "If M askes," Eve went on as she went toward the door and paused with it halfway open to address Bond. "I'm kitten-sitting this afternoon."

Bond snorted and rolled his eyes and Q purred slightly as they left the complex and started toward Moneypenny's car, a dark black jeep. She shed her coat as she got in and set it gently in the passenger seat so Q could wriggle his way out and settle down on top. "Comfortable?" Moneypenny questioned as she shifted the car into drive and they were off. 

The trip took about twenty minutes, give or take a few for traffic, and Q waited expectantly as Moneypenny parked outside the building. He stood up as she came around the car to get him and pick him into her arms. "What floor?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as several passerbys stopped to stare. 

Q curled and uncurled a paw on her arm four times. 

"Four. Copy that."

She hurried inside, ignoring the guard who moved to question her. She took the stairs instead of the elevator and, as she opened the door to the fourth floor, Q jumped out of her arms and scampered toward the end of the hall. "Q!" Eve called, hurrying after him. "Slow down!" She caught up to him at the second to last door from the end where he was batting at it impatiently, mewing frantically. "This it?" She didn't need to ask. It was evident by his stance that it was. "And I suppose you wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?" He looked at her crossly and she shrugged, pulling a lock-picking kit from her pocket and setting to work. "Worth a shot." 

There was a click and the door unhooked. Q threw his body against it and it opened a few centimeters. It was enough and he squeezed through. He let out a high yelp as his paws almost immediately struck a piece of paper and he was sent flailing onto the ground. _What! Why is this_ _paper here?_ He may not have looked it, but he was a complete neat freak. He would have died before he left this paper there.

"Um...Q? You _need_ to see this."

He lifted his head, confused. And then he saw what Moneypenny was seeing. Papers and files were strewn across every table and chair. Speaking of the table, it was overturned. All of his shelves had been dismantled. He recognized, to his utmost despair, that his rubix's cube, along with his D&D action figures, and all of his Pokemon cards, were scattered, torn, or shattered. Someone had been in his flat, looking for something. And, he realized, as he ran for the rubix's cube, it looked like they'd gotten it. 

_ No! Please, no! _

He overshot his run and slid across the floor, crashing into the cube and roughly flipping it over. A single pill fell out. _They took them. They...they took them..._

"Q? What is it? Did you find something?"

Eve came over slowly. Q spun and pawed the pill toward her, meowing pitifully. Moneypenny picked it up and studied it. "This it?" He nodded. "All right. I'll mix it into some water for you, make it easier to swallow." She went to the kitchen and set to work. Meanwhile, Q went back to assessing the damage. 

_ They knew. Somehow, they knew where I kept them. How? Only three people know who I am, and none of them would do this! Who else would know? _

_ The one who did this to me. _

Chills danced up and down his spine and he looked around warily, as though expecting the offender to suddenly materialize right before him. Footsteps. He turned as Moneypenny returned with a small bowl of water. "Here," she offered, setting the bowl in front of him and stepping back as he dove for it greedily. The pill was almost tasteless and he didn't notice it as he topped off the water and promptly leaped onto the couch, padding circles before finally settling near the middle and closing his eyes. 

Eve chuckled. "Enjoy your cat-nap, Q. I'll be here when you wake up." 

With that, he drifted off into a difficult sleep, filled with tires screeching, horns blaring, and a long syringe jabbed into his neck. 

And then he remembered nothing more. 


End file.
